


call you mine

by falsegoodnight



Series: love bites [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vampire Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25977886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsegoodnight/pseuds/falsegoodnight
Summary: “I have a request.”That’s what Louis Tomlinson says to Harry when he opens the front door a bit too aggressively. The latter feels justified after a round of annoyingly incessant knocking that was much too loud in the drowsy sludge of early Saturday morning.“Zayn’s asleep,” is Harry’s tired, hoarse reply, irritation prickling at his skin. Less than a minute ago he was in bed, feeling perfectly content sprawled out on the mattress with the chilled air from the fan cool against his bare skin. And now he’s leaning up against the wooden door frame in nothing but his briefs because Zayn’s best mate decided that showing up unannounced at seven in the fucking morning was a brilliant idea.“I’m not here for him,” says Louis curtly.-Or, Louis’ curious about how it feels to be bitten. Harry’s going to need more than just one bite.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: love bites [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885459
Comments: 116
Kudos: 977





	call you mine

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small disclaimer, since this is the first fic in the series I want to emphasize that every installment to this fic will be a separate story, with separate characters/characterizations, and separate “vibes”. They’re written by two different fic writers with similar styles but different ideas and executions! I literally read Sarah’s this morning and she read mine last night with minimal prior knowledge of plot and what was going to happen. 
> 
> Another potential **disclaimer:** There is some mentions of a bad sexual experience related to biting with a past partner in this fic that that can be read as a bit dub con even though the action was completely consensual (it just ended up being unenjoyable/painful). If you have further questions, feel free contact me on Tumblr or Twitter! 
> 
> Biggest thank you to Saint [Sarah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldouthaz/pseuds/soldouthaz) for beta-reading this for me and for being the loveliest friend and supporter. And thank you for doing this with me! :) (And special shout out to S (you know who you are) for testing out fic posts on twitter and even redownloading the mobile app for me and Sarah- love you <3)
> 
> Enjoy!

“I have a request.” 

That’s what Louis Tomlinson says to Harry when he opens the front door a bit too aggressively. The latter feels justified after a round of annoyingly incessant knocking that was much too loud in the drowsy sludge of early Saturday morning. 

“Zayn’s asleep,” is Harry’s tired, hoarse reply, irritation prickling at his skin. Less than a minute ago he was in bed, feeling perfectly content sprawled out on the mattress with the chilled air from the fan cool against his bare skin. And now he’s leaning up against the wooden doorframe in nothing but his briefs because Zayn’s best mate decided that showing up unannounced at seven in the fucking morning was a brilliant idea. 

“I’m not here for him,” says Louis curtly. 

Harry arches a brow, annoyance growing. “Then who the fuck are you are here for? You know Liam doesn’t actually live here, right? He’s just clingy.” 

Louis rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I had no clue my best friend’s boyfriend doesn’t live with him and his very observant roommate.” 

Harry frowns. He blinks rapidly, trying to clear the sudden rush of awareness of Louis’ rich blood scent wafting into his nose. 

As a socially active vampire, Harry is used to ignoring blood scents seeing as he interacts with dozens of humans every day whether it be at work or with any of his many human friends. It’s always been easy for him to let the scents fade to the background, a present thrum but never more than a buzz in the back of his head. 

Louis has always been a bit different. 

He doesn’t know what it is exactly about his scent- the heady, sweet richness of it that makes something curl with yearning and carnal desire deep inside him. It’s worse now when Harry hasn’t had his morning blood bag and his fangs are itching with the need to lower and piece the tender flesh of Louis’ exposed neck. 

Brushing off those desperate thoughts, Harry repeats himself. “What are you doing here?”

“I have a request for you,” Louis says easily. He’s dressed in a sweater that’s way too big for him, neckline hanging low enough to expose his collarbone and sliding down to show off a sliver of tanned shoulder. He’s also wearing black jeans- _tight_ black jeans that show off the curve of his calves and thighs, cutting off high enough to display his delicate ankles. 

Not that Harry’s looking. 

“What sort of request?” Harry questions. “And why can’t it wait until a reasonable time?”

“S’not my fault you waste so much of the day,” Louis deflects easily. 

“It’s seven,” Harry says flatly, “in the morning.” 

“Right, and I’d really like to make this quick,” says Louis, ducking under the arm he’s using to brace himself against the door and basically barging into his flat. 

“Seriously, what are you doing here?” Harry presses, completely baffled as to why Louis would want from _him._

“I have a request,” Louis says for the third time. “And you’re the only one who can fulfill it.”

Harry raises both eyebrows. “I highly doubt that but, okay, shoot. I’m curious now.” 

Louis just continues into the living room and takes a seat at the couch, kicking his feet onto the coffee table. 

“Hey, feet off,” Harry frowns, glaring at the offending socked toes before Louis begrudgingly removes them. He himself takes a seat on the armchair, thinking that he could probably go and get dressed to be courteous before remembering Louis wrenched him away from his bed for this conversation and realizing he doesn’t care. 

“Okay, let’s get right to the point,” Louis says, sounding a little nervous. 

“A bit late for that, don’t you think?” Harry points out. He doesn’t mean it to sound reproachful but he _is_ tired. 

Louis seems unbothered either way, pulling his sleeves over his heads and fiddling with them absently. “I need you to bite me.” 

Harry blinks. “I’m sorry, _what?_ ” 

“I need you to bite me,” Louis repeats. Harry really needs to have a word with him about explaining instead of echoing himself. 

“Why?” is all he can muster, shocked to say the least. 

Louis sighs impatiently, still fidgeting. “There’s this guy.”

Harry blinks again. For fuck’s sake… 

“And he’s a vampire and I really, really like him,” Louis continues, “but I keep deflecting whenever he tries to ask me out and I’m worried he’s going to get sick of it.”

“Yeah, well…” Harry says confusedly. “He probably will.”

“Which is why I need you to bite me,” Louis finishes, fixing Harry with an imploring look. 

“I think you’re missing the middle bit,” Harry says dryly. 

“I’ve never been bitten before I’m scared I’m not going to like it,” Louis supplies. 

_You will_ , he thinks before brushing the thought away. “So you want me to bite you so you can see what it feels like?”

“Yeah,” Louis breathes, looking eager. 

“Um,” Harry says, mulling it over. “No.” 

Louis’s mouth drops open. “Why!”

“Louis,” Harry starts slowly, still a bit shocked that this is even happening. “We barely know each other.” Zayn and Louis have been best friends for a couple years now but Harry can count on one hand the number of times he and Louis have had a genuine conversation. They’ve hung out together in groups before and are always friendly but he doesn’t even know what Louis does for a living let alone feel comfortable drinking from him. 

“Yeah, but you’re still the only vampire I know who can do this for me,” Louis says. 

“What about Zayn?” Harry suggests, mostly for the sake of being oppositional. 

“No, that’d be weird,” Louis wrinkles his nose. “Zayn’s my best friend and you’re… not.” 

“Yeah, we’re not _anything_ ,” Harry continues. “As much as biting isn’t inherently a sexual thing- it’s still _intimate._ You have to trust the other person. I barely know you.” 

“I trust you,” Louis insists. 

Harry snorts. “ _Why?_ You shouldn’t- you shouldn’t trust just anyone to sink their teeth into you.” Against his best efforts, his eyes still flicker to the exposed tan flesh of Louis’ neck. He clears his throat. “A vampire could literally take enough blood to _kill_ you and you wouldn’t realize until it’s too late.” 

“You’re a good guy, though,” Louis says. “Zayn wouldn’t live with a murderer.” 

“I’m not saying I- My point is, you can’t just ask any random vampire to bite you,” Harry says. 

“I’m not stupid,” Louis argues, lips curving into a displeased frown. “I asked _you_ , not a stranger.” 

Harry grimaces. “Look, no offense, but you do trust too easily and-”

“I do not,” Louis denies angrily, lips curled into an indignant scowl. 

“Zayn’s explanations of your past relationships beg to differ,” Harry says before he can think it true. 

Louis rears back, mouth dropping open in shock. “Excuse me?”

“That’s not the point though,” Harry repeats hurriedly, wincing at his own bluntness. “The point is you shouldn’t ask _me_ to do something like that. I’m practically a stranger to you. You can’t just…” He shakes his head, trailing off. It’s too early in the morning to be lecturing someone he barely knows about the philosophy of trust and intimacy. “You need to do your research and then talk to this guy. He can guide you through it and reassure you better than anyone since he’ll be the one doing it regularly.” 

“Just a small bite,” Louis pleads. 

“The answer is no,” says Harry firmly, standing up and crossing his arms. “If he’s really a good guy and you _trust_ him, it’ll work out.”

“But,” Louis says helplessly, frown growing and brows furrowing in frustration. “I-” He stops short, face falling. “Never mind.”

Harry furrows his brows, curious, but dismisses it. “I’m seriously not the person to talk to about this,” he says. 

“It doesn’t even have to be the neck,” Louis presses, sounding almost desperate. 

“No way,” Harry repeats, shaking his head, still so fucking tired. He wants another two hours of undisturbed sleep after this interruption. Technically, as a vampire he requires less sleep than a human would but he’s always been the sort to _enjoy_ the act of sleeping. It’s comforting and relaxing and he really fucking wishes he was in bed right now. Zayn’s the same way except apparently, he’s also been blessed with the ability to sleep deeply and avoid inconvenient circumstances such as this. 

Louis gets up slowly, looking equally disappointed and annoyed. “Fine,” he snaps. “Thanks a lot.” 

He stomps out of the room and Harry follows to make sure he locks the door behind him. 

“Thanks for stopping by,” Harry drawls sarcastically, ignoring the finger Louis shows him before he slams the door shut behind him. 

Harry leans back against the wall with a sigh, frustrated at the loss of Louis’ bloodscent and the sudden surge of images flashing through his head of droplets of red blooming on honeyed soft skin. His stomach pangs, the urge to feed growing in him. 

_Not yet,_ he thinks, sliding off the wall and heading back to his room. Sleep is still calling his name and Louis Tomlinson’s tempting blood isn’t going to disrupt it again. 

-

Weeks go by and Harry mostly forgets about Louis’ spontaneous proposition. He’s busy at work finalizing details for the current app he’s developing with his team. He’s been slowly working towards a promotion for the past six months and it seems closer to his grasp now more than ever. He knows he’s young and he’s got a disadvantage in terms of experience, but he also knows he’s really fucking good at what he does. 

He’s always been driven. He graduated college an entire semester early because he took summer classes and worked hard and he’s the youngest person on his team - and arguably the most determined. 

But he does love his job. Loves programming and brainstorming concepts and ideas to help the general public or even to fulfill a specific customer need. He loves working in his team be it in the office or via video chat when he’s working from home. 

It’s a lot of work but it’s also so rewarding. Either way, Harry’s always happy when the weekend rolls around and he can relax. Or drink. 

That’s what he’s doing now, downing a shot of bitter tequila with sweet blood alongside Niall as the music pulses around them and sweat clings to his skin. Leftover adrenaline from his boxing session at the gym with Liam is coursing through his veins and he’s aching for a way to let it all out. 

Zayn, who’s seated across from him next to Liam and scanning the crowds with a frown on his face, lets out a sigh tinged with relief. “There he is,” he says. 

Harry raises an eyebrow, mouth opening to ask what he means when an arrival of two people throws him off. 

Louis. Well, Louis and a tall stranger with floppy dark hair and brooding gray eyes that survey their table with barely concealed displeasure. 

“Hey guys,” says Louis brightly, nudging the other guy. “This is Brandon.” 

“Hi,” says the guy stiffly. Brandon. It doesn’t take Harry long to realize he’s a vampire. 

So this is the guy, he thinks. It’s been about three weeks since Louis came over with his request and Harry denied him. He wonders if Louis went to someone else for help or if he talked to Brandon like Harry told him to. 

He brushes it off and rejoins the conversation, hiding his grimace when Brandon gives brisk and vague answers to Zayn and Liam’s questions and keeps a heavy hand on Louis’ shoulder. It looks wrong and Harry _feels_ wrong about it. 

His bloodscent is as strong as ever, distinct even amidst throngs of people on all sides. However, the fact that Brandon can smell the warm blood just as easily as he can rubs him the wrong way. He continues to ignore it. 

Zayn and Liam disappear to go dance and Harry tries to keep busy with his blood drink, laughing when Niall tells a random story and forcing his eyes to focus on his friend rather than flicking over to where Brandon is leaning into Louis’s space with a greedy expression on his lips. He’s got both hands framing Louis’ face, looking big and threatening next to his delicate features.

Louis doesn’t look _scared_ per se, but he does look uneasy. 

Harry opens his mouth to interrupt and give Louis an out if he needs it, but then Brandon says something with a smirk, a glimpse of blinding white fangs flashing like a warning sign. Louis nods in reply, still looking uneasy. 

Brandon gets up first, probably to get the car since the club is so busy, parking stretches on for a couple of blocks. He heads for the door with long, entitled strides, not moving for anyone else. The crowd parts for him instead, but not in a way that screams respect. In a way that screams apprehension. 

“Harry,” Louis says, looking at him with conflicted eyes. 

He doesn’t say anything else but Harry gets the gist of it. Brandon wants to bite him and Louis is still nervous. “Do you trust him?” he asks. 

Louis hesitates before nodding firmly. “Yeah, I… I do.” 

“Are you sure?” Harry checks, feeling a bit worried by the lack of conviction in Louis’ words. He only meant it to be safe, but Louis looks annoyed now. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he snaps, bristling. His eyes are hazy with alcohol and his skin glimmers with sweat. He’s wearing a translucent white shirt that hangs low enough to expose his collarbone and of course, the curve of his throat, smooth and unblemished. That paired with his unstable mood makes him the perfect meal for greedy vampires. 

“What’s going on?” Niall asks, understandably confused. 

Harry ignores him. “Louis, don’t go home with him if you don’t trust him.” He doesn’t know why he’s got such a bad feeling about this. He doesn’t know Brandon at all and Louis does. Louis is _dating_ him, or with him - whatever. He’s probably overreacting. 

“I do trust him,” Louis says firmly. He looks pissed off and it triggers Harry’s worry. Louis is the vulnerable one between him and Brandon and he’s not fully coherent or calm right now. 

“Maybe you guys should wait,” he suggests, trying to keep his tone gentle and careful. 

Louis shakes his head wildly, shoulders slumping. “I - no, I want to do it,” he insists, frowning. He glances up at Harry. “It doesn’t hurt?”

“It’s a good hurt,” Harry whispers, throat heavy. For a charged moment, they just stare at each other. 

“Seriously, what the fuck is going on?” Niall asks, breaking the tension. 

“Drink some water first,” Harry orders, watching as Louis stands up on semi-shaky feet. 

In lieu of arguing, Louis nods. He stares at Harry with unfocused eyes, softening a tad. “I’ll be fine,” he promises. 

Harry nods slowly, biting his lip to prevent himself from asking for Louis’ number _just in case._

Louis walks away and his scent goes with him. Harry keeps his eyes steadily on him until he disappears from view. 

A tap on the shoulder rips him out of his inner turmoil. 

Niall looks frustrated and curious as he says, “What were you guys talking about?”

“Louis’ first bite,” he murmurs, the words feeling rancid on his tongue. He takes another sip of his drink, pretending the processed blood is sweeter and richer on his taste buds. “It’ll be fine,” he adds at Niall’s sudden apprehension, not entirely sure which of them he’s trying to convince.

-

The next day passes slowly. Harry tries to ignore the urge to ask Zayn to ask Louis how it was and if he’s okay. 

They’re not friends, is the thing. Louis asked him a favor. Harry said no. That’s the end of it and they’ll continue to exchange pleasantries when their friend group hangs out together and perhaps Harry will have to suppress glares if Brandon tags along but it’ll all be fine. 

He goes to bed and definitely doesn’t lay there for a bit wondering what Louis’ face looked like when Brandon bit him and if he let out a whimper or trembled at the feeling. 

The next morning, he is once again roused by the sound of knocking. 

Cursing his heightened hearing, he gets up and out of bed with a groan. Honestly how the fuck is Zayn never woken by the knocks? They both have equally strong hearing and yet, Harry is the only one who's been yanked out of his dreams. 

A glance at the clock confirms that it’s about eight thirty so not quite the early time of the last disaster but still too early for Harry’s preferences. Once again, he forgoes the shirt but does grab some sweats, pulling them up as he drags his feet to the door. 

This time, since he’s actually taken a second to pause, he can _smell_ who’s on the other side before he sees them. 

He yanks the door open to see that it is, yes, _Louis_ shuffling his feet, hood-covered head ducked and fringe covering his eyes. He looks tired and dejected and even his blood smells sluggish and less rich than usual. The sight makes all the annoyance whoosh out of Harry’s insides in a heartbeat. 

“Hey,” he says, voice still gritty with sleep even as he tries to soften it. 

Louis looks apologetic, rocking up onto his toes and back. “Did I wake you again? I’m sorry, I just needed to talk to Zayn.”

“Zayn’s also asleep,” Harry says just as apologetically. 

“Oh,” Louis breathes. They both know that if Zayn’s fast asleep, it’d take an orchestra to get him up. “Alright, I probably should’ve texted him first. Um, bye.”

He turns to walk away and Harry impulsively grabs his arm, fingers twitching against the soft fabric of Louis’ sweatshirt. 

Louis stiffens, staring at his ringed hand with an unreadable expression. 

Harry winces, retracting it slowly. “Sorry, um, you can come inside if you want? Zayn usually gets up around nine-ish anyway.” It’s not exactly a lie but it does depend on whether he and Liam have plans today. Though they tend to have plans very frequently so Harry feels comfortable with his odds. 

“Are you sure?” Louis checks. He sounds so reserved and it feels wrong. 

“Yeah, of course,” Harry says hastily, stepping aside so Louis can come inside. It’s a far cry from the determined energy Louis had been radiating the last time he came into the flat. 

He follows Louis into the living room where Louis sits down stiffly, sleeved-covered hands clasped in his lap. He takes a seat in the same armchair as last time, feeling concerned and a bit worried by Louis’ silence. 

Louis isn’t - he’s _never_ quiet, not around people he knows at least. He can be shy but even when he’s shy, he’s loud in so many other ways. He’s loud when he fidgets and wrinkles his nose and raises his arched eyebrows, always vibrating and shifting and moving in some way.

But right now he’s just… still. 

“What happened?” Harry asks gently. 

Louis shakes his head. “It’s nothing, I just-” He breaks off with a sigh. “Brandon broke up with me,” he mumbles. 

Harry blinks, the words registering at a snail’s pace. When they finally do, he nearly chokes. “He _what?”_

“I guess we weren’t really dating in the first place but,” Louis says sadly, shrugging. “He was so determined to take me out, but I guess that was the fun of it - the chase. He wanted a good fuck and once he got it, he didn’t care anymore.” 

“Louis,” Harry says, heart panging. “I’m so sorry. He’s a fucking asshole.” 

Louis shakes his head. “No, it’s my fault. I saw the signs and I ignored them.” He rubs his eyes, the movement pushing his hood down. 

Harry’s eyes automatically drop down to Louis’ neck, freezing when he sees it. “So...” he says. “You let him bite you?”

He stiffens, making a sour face. It’s the first warning sign. “Yeah. I’m never doing it again.” 

It takes a second for the words to register. “You… really?” he says, surprised. It’s not often that someone dislikes the feeling so much that they won’t do it again - that they even dislike it in the first place. 

“To be honest, I have no idea why people have been hyping it up for so long,” Louis grumbles, frowning. “It wasn’t enjoyable at all.” He sounds annoyed about it, but there’s also an undercurrent of something else layered in his voice and face, something akin to embarrassment and unease.

“It wasn’t?” Harry frowns, a feeling of dread curling in his stomach as Louis ducks his head. “What happened?”

Louis grimaces, squirming and crossing his legs anxiously. “I dunno. We slept together and he bit me. Pretty self-explanatory, innit.” 

“And it didn’t feel good?” Harry presses, more bothered by this than he expected to be. 

“It hurt,” Louis admits softly, “like really bad.” 

Harry opens his mouth and then closes it. “It’s not - it’s not supposed to hurt,” he says worriedly. “Well, it is, but in a good way.” 

“It wasn’t in a good way,” Louis whispers, looking uncomfortable as if he’s replaying the memory in his head. “And I felt sick afterwards.”

Sick. Harry frowns. “Did he… he took care of you, right?”

“What do you mean?” Louis asks, confused. His lack of understanding confirms Harry’s fears. 

“He didn’t, did he?” he mutters, disbelief and indignation clawing up his throat. “What an asshole.”

Louis just shrugs. “Yeah, well...”

“He’s a jerk,” Harry says firmly. “Every vampire knows - or _should_ know - they’re supposed to be careful feeding from humans and make sure they drink water and rest afterwards. They’re literally in charge of your life at that moment. He can’t just -” He pauses, glancing at Louis abruptly. “How much did he drink from you?” 

“A lot,” Louis admits, still fidgeting. He can’t even meet Harry’s gaze. 

“How much?” Harry presses, anxious. 

Louis grimaces. “I dunno… Just, a lot. He said it was fine though.” 

“That bastard,” Harry growls, imagining Brandon drinking Louis’ blood and seeing him start to pale and go woozy, _knowing_ he should stop but not caring. Just continuing to feed and sate his own hunger. Vampires like him are the reason there’s so much fear and apprehension from humans towards their species. Vampires like him don’t give a shit about anything but drinking blood, as much as they want whenever they want it. 

Harry had been born a vampire instead of turned like Zayn and he’s been taught since he was a child that it’s his responsibility to take care of any human he chooses to feed from. He was taught about consent and communication and kindness, about putting their comfort and safety before your own. But Brandon’s one of those vampires who just takes and takes with no regard to how much he’s taken and who he’s taking from. 

“Maybe biting just isn’t for me,” Louis says, distracting Harry from his thoughts. And that’s- That’s not right. 

He shakes his head. “You didn’t like it because he didn’t do it right.”

The sharp glare Louis sends him is a mixture of defensiveness and disbelief. “Oh, and you’re the expert, are you?” he shoots, arms crossing. 

Harry narrows his eyes at him. “I’m not trying to be patronizing, but it’s the truth. Humans to tend to enjoy being bitten, especially during sex. He’s the one who messed it up.”

Louis looks skeptical. “I dunno, it felt pretty shitty to me.”

Another wave of anger drips through his veins directed to Brandon, but still he clears his throat and continues. “It’s usually enjoyable though. Brandon’s a bastard but I’m sure the next time with a vampire who has manners will be better.”

“Don’t know if there’ll be a next time,” Louis says flatly, shaking his head. “I’m a bit traumatized, I suppose.”

“That’s fair, but -” He trails off, guilt bubbling up in his stomach. Louis is feeling sad and instead of being sympathetic, he’s trying to argue with him. It doesn’t matter what Louis thinks about bites anyway, he tells himself. It’s not like Harry wants to bite him. 

Much. 

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he says belatedly, shaking his head. “Do you want tea or something?” He may not know Louis well but he’s well aware Zayn keeps Louis’ favorite tea brand stocked in their cabinet. 

Louis nods, “Please.” He follows Harry to the kitchen and takes a seat on the stool, resting his elbows on the island in front of him. 

Harry makes two cups and takes the stool next to him. They drink in silence for a bit, no awkwardness settling between them, just understanding. 

“Hey, Louis,” Harry blurts, feeling a bit stupid when Louis arches a brow at him. “What is it that you do?” 

“Oh,” Louis says, clearly surprised. “I’m actually getting my MS in Nursing, but I’m also doing a paid internship at the moment.” He shrugs. “It’s been busy, but I love it.” 

Nursing. Harry wouldn’t have guessed it but now that he knows, he can’t imagine anything else. Louis has that air about him - the caring and soothing layer to him that he’s seen come out in the past like when Zayn got sick and he came over to take care of him or when Niall slammed the car door on his pinkie when they were going to a match and Louis got out his first aid kit and fussed over him for the entirety of the game. 

Or even that one time when Harry had a headache during game night at Liam and Niall’s place and Louis gave him a pill and some water without being asked. 

“That’s cool,” he says belatedly, clearing his throat awkwardly. “You’d be a fantastic nurse.”

The smile Louis sends him is as bright as the sun, making something twist in his chest. Instead of an urge to lean away, all Harry wants to do is get closer and feel the warmth. 

“What about you? You’re in IT, aren’t you?” Louis asks. 

They spend the next hour talking. Harry’s so engrossed in their conversation, he nearly misses Zayn’s drowsy, “Hullo,” as he lumbers into the room. 

Harry hands Louis off to his capable best friend’s hands and excuses himself, a soft smile on his face as he goes to take a shower. He fights every instinct to go back and comfort Louis however he can as he steps into the bathroom and cranks on the hot water, the smell of Louis’ blood still fresh in his senses. 

-

Him and Louis becoming friends wasn’t planned, but it happens so naturally that Harry’s honestly surprised it took them so long. 

They start texting first, just random questions and the occasional selfie of Louis and his cat (which Harry definitely does _not_ have a separate album on his phone for). That friendly exchange evolves into them getting lunch together at least three times a week once they both realize Louis’ campus is only a few minutes walk from Harry’s office. 

Most of these lunches are spent ranting and venting about classes and annoying coworkers but also with unexpectedly deep conversations about life and careers and the rise of AI among other things. There’s also a fair bit of bickering but the kind that involves mutual understanding and banter. 

Louis is really funny, Harry realizes very quickly. Funny and smart and _pretty._ Needless to say, it doesn’t take long for Harry to begin developing _feelings._

It’s not like he had been blind to Louis’ beauty before or their similar humor, or the fact that his blood calls out to Harry more than any other human he’s smelled or tasted, but those had all been easy to ignore when the extent of their interaction were limited to group hangouts and whenever Louis came over to hang out with Zayn. The latter of which usually led to Harry going to the gym or visiting other friends because he felt awkward lingering when Louis and Zayn seemed to be so in tune with each other. 

The only problem is that Louis has pretty much sworn he’ll never get romantically involved with a vampire ever again. He’s so sure he’s not a fan of biting and Harry is reminded of it much too frequently. 

_You’d like it if I bit you_ , he wants to say whenever it gets brought up. _I’d take care of you properly_. 

But he never says anything, biting his tongue and pretending like the words don’t feel like a knife to his gut every single time. 

Louis, it seems, is completely oblivious to his growth of feelings. 

Spring bleeds into summer and the air gets humid and hot. Harry is forced to watch Louis ditch the sweaters and jeans for tee shirts and shorts, exposing inches of smooth, tan skin that becomes a main feature in his dreams. 

They start meeting up during the weekends and hanging out more whenever all five of them are together and suddenly, whenever Louis comes over to the flat, he’s not just there for Zayn but for Harry too. 

Harry goes over to Louis’ flat too sometimes. He meets Louis’ flatmate, a lovely girl named Perrie, and also his cat, Marmalade, who doesn’t seem to like Harry very much but he’s sure that he’ll win her over eventually. Until then, he’ll bear the scratches and yowls with grace. 

It’s all too easy to spend every last minute of his free time with Louis. Harry feels so _happy_ whenever he’s with him. Whether they’re arguing playfully or whining to each other or just sitting in silence while watching a movie, Harry feels so content. They’ve only been friends for a few months but Harry can’t remember what it was like to not have Louis taking up so much space on his couch and also in his mind and heart.

They’re in the living room watching cartoons. It’s about two and they’re both full from the quick lunch Harry whipped up a bit ago, too lazy to change the channel to something more traditionally age-appropriate. 

And even though it’s just cartoons, Louis watches the screen with interest, giggling when the animals do something silly and telling Harry his guesses (all of which are correct) for what scheme or mischief is next. 

It’s entirely harmless and innocent, which is why Harry is not prepared for Louis’ scoff when the show goes on commercial break and the first ad is for a dating app service for humans and vampires to hook up and ‘ _find the perfect bite.'_

“Overrated,” Louis mutters. He’s sprawled out on the couch with his feet in Harry’s lap. Harry spent the last half an hour trying to resist the urge to circle his bare ankles with his fingers, positive they’d be able to envelope the delicate bones with ease. His fingers twitch now for a different reason. 

He purses his lips, the urge to defend and argue rising in him. 

Louis doesn’t stop there though, sitting up on the couch so he can gesture with his hands more effectively. “I don’t understand why biting is so glorified when it’s painful in real life. Don’t get me wrong, if people are comfortable with it or want to feed their partner, I get it, but everyone needs to stop sugarcoating it and giving people the wrong impressions.”

“It’s not the wrong impression,” Harry counters, the indignant words spilling from his throat despite his best efforts. 

“What?” Louis asks, lips parted in surprise. He very clearly did not expect Harry to argue. It seems reasonable considering Harry’s been biting his tongue for the past few months now. 

“It’s not the wrong impression,” he repeats, trying to keep his voice steady. It’s difficult especially when Louis sends him an incredulous look. “I’m serious, Lou.”

“Look, Harry, no offense but-”

Harry shakes his head. “I think I would know better than you,” he interrupts, frowning. “Just because Brandon’s an asshole doesn’t mean it always feels like that. It’s not supposed to actually be painful.”

“It’s sharp fangs cutting into your skin,” Louis says flatly. 

“ _Yeah,_ but you’re not supposed to feel it. There’s chemicals that are released during a bite that increase dopamine levels and distract from the pain,” Harry insists. “If it’s done right and by someone who’s actually a good person, it’s supposed to be pleasurable, or tolerable at the very least.” 

Louis shakes his head. “I can’t believe that.”

“God, Louis. Why are you so stubborn?” Harry grimaces, fingers curling into fists absentmindedly. 

“M’not,” Louis denies, scowling. “Excuse me for being skeptical after what happened last time.”

“I’m literally a vampire,” Harry implores a bit wildly, “and I’ve bitten plenty of humans and none of them have ever disliked it.”

“Are you sure about that?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow and looking amused. 

“Positive,” Harry grits, a bit irritated. Why can’t Louis just accept the facts? “I genuinely think you’d like it if you were bitten again. With intent.”

“Prove it,” Louis interrupts, words cutting through the tension like a sharp blade. The words sink into Harry’s consciousness slow as syrup and when they finally settle, he flinches. 

“What?” he rasps, heart pounding in his chest. 

“I said, prove it,” Louis says, staring at Harry with a challenge in his eyes. 

Harry blinks, shock licking up his sides. Louis said _prove it_. “You want me to bite you?” he blurts, a peculiar feeling twisting in his gut. 

“If you’re so sure I’ll like it,” Louis says, “then yes. I’ll give it one last try. No pressure.”

Swallowing thickly, Harry feels his fangs slide lower, the urge to feed growing as Louis’ bloodscent intensifies. He licks his lips, nostrils flaring. “Okay,” he breathes, feeling like he’s in a dream and he’s going to wake up any second. 

Louis’ lips part, eyes fixed on his mouth and paling like he’s not quite sure what he’s gotten himself into. “So, where…” He trails off. 

“Fingers,” Harry breathes. He’s not going to bite Louis on the neck - doesn’t think he could stand it - and the vein in his thigh seems a bit presumptuous too, so the finger capillaries will have to do. Just the thought of it sends a wave of arousal burning in his body, cock hardening in his sweats. 

“Put on a shirt first,” Louis mumbles, eyes flickering down to his crotch unsubtly. 

Harry smirks, savoring the way Louis’ blood scent thickens in the air, demanding his attention. “I don’t think that’s where a shirt goes.” 

Louis blushes furiously and Harry’s lips twitch, eyes tracking the flush of pink as it blooms over his cheeks and down his neck. He wants to follow it with his teeth. He brushes the thought off and gets up, heading for his bedroom. 

He comes out a minute later, still shrugging on his shirt as he takes in Louis’ hunched position on the couch. It’s like after Harry left, he just started shrinking into himself. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he checks cautiously. “You know, we don’t have to-”

“No,” Louis interrupts forcefully. “I want you... to do it.” 

Harry nods slowly, sitting down on the couch. He wants to ask Louis to sit in his lap but refrains, patting the space next to him instead. 

Louis is hesitant as he slides in next to him, fingers twitching like he’s already picturing how it’ll feel. Harry stares at them too, so slim and delicate. He’s going to drink from them, he thinks dazedly. He’s finally going to taste that intoxicating scent that’s been teasing him for years. 

He holds his own hands out, waiting for Louis to place his on top before bringing them up to his lips. He’s going to go slow, especially knowing how bad it was for him last time. For now, he lets his lips ghost over Louis’ fingers, keeping them parted so his teeth scrape over his knuckles like a promise. 

The shiver it elicits is something he records and stores away for later, entranced by the way Louis has fallen completely silent as he stares at their joined hands with wide, blue eyes. 

“I’m not going to bite very hard,” he murmurs, wanting Louis to know exactly what he’s going to do. He presses the words into Louis’ quivering index finger. “It’s going to be fine, Lou.”

Louis nods, looking pale. “I trust you,” he murmurs, looking just as surprised as Harry by the confession. 

“Okay,” Harry says, swallowing. 

He opens his mouth, revealing his fangs and basking in the way Louis’ breath hitches at the sight. He can practically feel the blood rushing under Louis’ skin, rich and pulsing. _Alive_. He waits another second, giving Louis an opportunity to back out which he doesn’t take. 

Then, he bites down. 

Louis gasps, body going rigid as red blooms in the pad of his finger. 

Harry licks his finger to soothe the sting, almost groaning as the first burst of crimson meets his taste buds. He tastes even better than he smells and Harry is already addicted, flattening his tongue on Louis’ finger and letting the blood sink into his throat. It’s not a lot - he basically just nipped him, and Harry already wants more. 

“Can I?” he asks, voice gritty and hoarse as he licks the trickling blood. 

“Yes,” Louis breathes, sounding woozy. He looks dazed, but not lightheaded or tired. His eyes are bright as they watch Harry bite into his middle finger next. 

It tastes just as good as the first time and soon Harry is lost to his hunger, lapping greedily at his fingers and keeping a firm grip around Louis’ wrist. 

Then Louis _whimpers._ It's soft but Harry catches it - he’ll always catch it. The sound goes straight to his cock and he groans. He always gets hard feeding from humans and Louis tastes sweeter than anyone he’s ever drunk from before. 

His eyes dip down and he stills, shocked. “You’re…” Harry trails off, voice heavy with emotion.

Louis squirms, embarrassed. He looks wrecked: skin slick with sweat, chest heaving as he pants, lips bitten and red... and he’s _hard_. Hard because of Harry biting him. Not even in the neck. He’s actually turned on by Harry drinking from his fingers.

Harry exhales jaggedly, arousal growing as he cradles Louis’ face gently. He tilts his head back to face him so their eyes can meet. Louis blinks languidly at him with half-lidded eyes, irises glazed over and lashes wet with unshed tears. There’s something pulsing between them, undeniable and crackling with tension. 

But the moment is broken just as fast, Louis stiffening and leaning back. 

“That’s enough,” he says shakily. 

Harry ignores his own disappointment and stands up. “You need to eat something.” Because even though he barely took half a pint from Louis, he still knows it’s more blood loss than he’s used to. 

And he’s not an asshole. Louis let him feed from him and in return, it’s Harry’s responsibility to take care of him. It’s not even a responsibility - Harry _wants_ to do it. He wants to take care of Louis, wants to feed from him again and then feed him in return. He wants Louis to be his. 

The twist of his heart and the knowledge that he won’t be getting any of it is more painful than any bite could be. 

“Okay,” Louis says, tripping over the words as if it required more energy for him to speak than usual. It probably does. 

Harry gets him a granola bar and a glass of cold water, coaxing him into drinking the entire thing and taking slow bites of the food in between. 

“So?” he asks when Louis has finished and some of the color has returned to his cheeks. 

Louis looks flustered when he says, “It didn’t hurt.”

“I told you,” Harry murmurs, amused at the way Louis is blatantly avoiding his eyes. “And?”

“And you were right and I was wrong,” Louis huffs, a blush flushing up his face and down his neck. He blushes so easily, Harry thinks. 

“And,” Harry continues. 

He looks confused at that, biting his slick bottom lip subconsciously. “And?”

“And you enjoyed it?” Harry murmurs, ducking in closer and taking his hands in his own. 

“I…” Louis gulps, eyes widening as Harry raises Louis’ hands to his lips and presses kisses over the already healing cuts. The punctures weren’t deep in the first place but Harry’s still unfailingly gentle as he brushes his open mouth over quivering fingers. “Harry,” Louis breathes. 

“Hm?” he murmurs, leaning in even more. 

If he could just… 

“Hey guys,” says a voice, and Louis springs away from him. 

Harry resists the urge to scream, turning stiffly to see Zayn who’s looking at his phone and completely oblivious to what he just interrupted. 

“Oh, Lou. You’re here,” Zayn says when he glances up, surprised. 

“Yeah,” Harry says flatly when it becomes clear Louis is unable to respond. 

He’s scooted to the opposite end of the couch and is clutching a pillow to his lap, embarrassment painted across his features. 

“I’m going -” he stutters after a beat, face flushing deep red. “Bathroom.” 

He stumbles to his feet, swaying dangerously before righting himself and rushing out of the room. He heads for the door, the exact opposite direction of the bathroom. 

Zayn watches him go with a bewildered expression and Harry takes the opportunity to adjust himself discreetly, self-satisfaction leaden in his stomach. 

“What was that about?” Zayn murmurs, glancing back at Harry with a raised brow. 

“I don’t know, he’s _your_ best friend,” Harry says with a shrug. _And my meal,_ he thinks smugly, before forcing an innocent smile. “We were just talking but I think he forgot something.” 

“Alright,” Zayn says with a nod, easily appeased as ever. He heads off to the kitchen and Harry gets up and heads to the shower, already accepting that he’ll be jerking off to memories of Louis’ little whimpers and gasps of pleasure for weeks to come. 

-

They don’t talk about it. It’s not that Harry expected them to, seeing as it was basically a one time thing. He made his point and Louis conceded it. That’s that and that’s all it will be. 

But it still feels like there’s unresolved tension between them that results in more than a few awkward silences and brisk conversations. 

It doesn’t help that every time Harry sees Louis, he thinks about his blood and how it tasted. How it slid down his throat and felt on his tongue. How he wants more of it, more of Louis. _All_ _the time._

Zayn is at Liam’s when Louis knocks at his door, hair damp from a shower dripping water onto an old baggy shirt that hangs off his small frame and reveals an obscene strip of shoulder that Harry would like to trace with his teeth. It’s eleven and they hadn’t discussed him coming over beforehand, not that Harry would ever turn him away. 

They decide after some tense floundering to watch a movie. Harry is surprised when Louis sits right next to him, having assumed Louis wouldn’t want to be so close. 

Louis flicks through Netflix, shoulder brushing Harry’s. He wants to move away from the burning point of contact, already overwhelmed by their proximity and the smell of supple, thick blood thundering under Louis’ skin, a sweet temptation that he shouldn’t dwell on. 

Trying to ignore it just makes the itch grow stronger, pangs of hunger festering in his stomach until Harry feels restless. 

“I need,” he blurts, stiffening when Louis places a hand on his bicep softly, features concerned. “I need to get a drink,” he finishes, voice dropping into a mumble. 

“A drink?” Louis asks, frowning. His eyes widen in realization when Harry reveals his lowered fangs. “Oh,” he breathes. 

“Yeah,” Harry says after a moment, standing up and heading to the kitchen before the awkwardness can drag on too long. He can’t believe things between them had peaked and then plummeted so quickly. 

He’s maybe a bit too aggressive as he pulls out his jug of processed blood, almost identical to the jug of milk right next to it save for the crimson color, and pours himself a tall drink. He already had a glass earlier that evening but he feels particularly ravenous tonight, body tensed and itching to hunt and bite. 

Louis is quiet when he returns, watching him curiously and smelling ten times better than the drink in his hand. His fingers twitch around the glass, the primal urge to drop it and lunge for Louis racing through his brain. He’d pin him down onto the carpet, cutting off his surprised gasp by sinking his teeth into his jugular, in the soft spot right next to his pulse. 

Harry shivers. He gulps down the drink quickly after that, fangs finally retracting as warm liquid slides down his throat. Louis’ scent is still heady and suffocating but the ache has lessened to a dull throb - much more tolerable. His skin prickles once he realizes Louis is watching him carefully, gaze intense and unwavering. He opens his mouth to ask what’s going on but Louis beats him to it. 

“How does it taste?” he asks.

Harry stills, blinking in confusion. “How does what taste?”

“Blood,” Louis mumbles, looking embarrassed.

“I mean,” Harry starts, clearing his throat awkwardly. He’s honestly surprised Louis isn’t going to Zayn for this, or that they’ve never discussed it before. Most humans are incredibly curious about vampires and their habits and they don’t feel ashamed in asking questions from the very beginning. “I’m sure you’ve tasted your own blood even accidentally. Like if you’ve got a bloody nose or -”

“But that tastes good to you?” Louis interrupts, brows harshly furrowed as if it’s a question he needs to know the answer to.

Harry hesitates, unsure of how to articulate what he wants to say. “It’s like… blood is what we need to survive so of course we enjoy it. But we also have elevated taste buds which allows us to differentiate between different types of blood and basically results in us having preferences for different… flavors, I guess. The same goes for our enhanced sense of smell letting us distinguish different humans from each other which also plays into the tradition of hunting.” He pauses as Louis flinches at the latter, looking flustered. Biting back a smirk, he adds, “Some of us enjoy the taste more than others though, I’m sure.”

“And you enjoy it a lot?” Louis asks curiously.

“I do,” Harry confirms, tracking the small bob of Louis’ adam’s apple as he swallows. 

“Is there,” Louis starts, averting his gaze shyly, “a difference between the blood bags you drink at meals and actual human blood.”

“Definitely,” Harry says. “Human blood is richer, _sweeter._ I mean, all blood is alive but human blood is just _more_ . It tastes like it’s thrumming of life, like it _is_ living. It’s been described as the closest thing to the nectar of the Gods and I think that’s a pretty accurate representation. Some taste better than others though.”

“Oh.” Louis does look at him then, clearly trying to look nonchalant. Harry sees right through him, sees the festering curiosity and desire to be validated. 

Of course, he’s all too happy to reassure, leaning in closer to emphasize his next words. “You, on the other hand, taste exquisite,” he says unabashedly. 

Louis flushes deep red, lips parting in satisfaction. “Good to know.” 

They turn back to the TV and the movie Louis put on. Harry recognizes a few actors but he missed which film it is. He’s unable to pry his lips apart and ask, the question sitting on the tip of his tongue along with all his other queries. _Will you let me drink from you again?_ being one of them along with _can I take you to dinner sometime?_ He’s not sure which one he wants the answer to more at the moment. 

He tries his best to focus on the screen, trying to figure out what’s going on using context clues but he keeps getting sidetracked whenever Louis moves and their sides brush together or he gets a particularly strong whiff of blood. Apparently, his drink didn’t quell all his hunger.

Louis’ habit of fidgeting has never been so inconvenient. 

Eventually, it becomes too difficult to ignore so he clears his throat. “Everything okay?” he asks, leaning in close enough that wisps of Louis’ strong floral shampoo seep into his nostrils, making him even dizzier. 

“Yeah,” Louis says immediately, voice wobbling a bit. “It’s just…” He hesitates, clearly conflicted. 

Harry licks his lips. “You can tell me anything,” he coaxes gently, going as far as to slide his arm around Louis’ side and squeeze reassuringly. 

Louis stiffens at the touch and Harry tries not to be too hurt by it. He retracts his arm slowly, frowning and trying to tamp it down. “Lou?”

“I’m just,” Louis starts, pausing as if to figure out what to say before getting frustrated. 

He sucks in a breath when Louis climbs into his lap, annoyed with how fast his heart rate picked up and his cock stirred, understandably taking interest in the pretty boy in his arms. He braces Louis cautiously, resisting the urge to bury his face in his neck and bite him like he wants to. 

This is just normal, he tells himself. He can’t read too much into something like this when he’s seen Louis sit in Liam’s or even Niall’s lap plenty of times in the past. 

“So,” Louis begins again, sounding shyer this time. “Obviously, I enjoy, um, being bitten a lot more than I realized.”

“Understatement,” Harry mutters, forcing a teasing smile. 

Louis huffs at him, pinching him in the ribs before setting his hands on Harry’s shoulders casually. Louis falters, blinking rapidly as his fingers squeeze Harry’s shoulders, feeling the muscles there. 

Harry bites back the urge to smirk. “Where is this going?” He doesn’t want to get his hopes up but they bubble up anyways - maybe Louis wants him like Harry wants him. Maybe -

“I just had some more questions,” Louis reveals, shrugging embarrassedly. 

“Oh,” Harry breathes, disappointment dripping in his veins. “Of course, Lou.” 

“So it didn’t hurt too bad when you… um, bit my fingers,” Louis mumbles. “Does the neck hurt more?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Harry answers honestly, “which is why it’s something people, unless you have a higher pain tolerance, mostly do it during sex when you’re too distracted by pleasure to feel the full effects.”

Louis nods. “Does it feel different for you? Drinking from the neck?” He hesitates, “During sex?” 

“It’s much better,” Harry admits, watching Louis’ eyes darken. “Part of it is you get more blood from the neck and it’s more filling but, uh, it’s also just the mix of lust and hunger being sated at the same time. It’s definitely much better.”

“Oh,” Louis says, exhaling shakily. His breath tickles Harry’s neck and his fingers twitch around Louis’ waist. 

Harry clears his throat, a question poised on his lips. However, he doesn’t get the chance to say it. Louis cuts him off by shifting in his lap, grinding down deliberately. 

_“_ Wha- _fuck,”_ he groans, bucking up into it as Louis wraps his arms around his neck. “Lou, what-”

Louis drops his head to Harry’s shoulder, panting as he circles his hips expertly. “I want you to do it,” he says, sounding breathless and desperate. “Please.” 

Tightening his grip on his hips, Harry takes control of the pace. He feels like he’s short-circuiting, like he skipped a few pages in a book because minutes ago they were watching TV and now Louis is whimpering and kissing up the side of his neck while his sharp nails dig into Harry’s scalp. He said he wants Harry to -

“You want me to fuck you?” he murmurs, half because he needs to hear it, to confirm that it isn't a dream. It’s actually happening because Louis actually wants it. 

“Yeah,” Louis chokes as Harry brushes his open mouth over his rabbiting pulse. “Fuck - _Fuck_ me. Drink from me. Please.”

“You want me to drink from you, baby?” Harry’s voice dips into something more deliberate, lower and hoarse with a promise. He lets Louis undo the buttons of his shirt and push it out of the way, fingers fumbling to tug Louis’ shirt off as well. 

Inches of honeyed smooth skin is exposed all for Harry. He runs his hands up his sides possessively. “Want me to take it from you?” he croons, pinching Louis’ nipple and savoring the whine it evokes. “I might be taking but you’ll be begging me for it, won’t you? That’s how much you like it, how much you _need_ it.”

Harry bites down on his shoulder and Louis gasps out, startled. It’s barely a bite but he still licks up the tiny trickle of blood, rich taste just as good as he remembers, if not better.

“I’ll give it to you,” he promises, raising his hands to frame Louis’ face and effectively slowing them down. He has no clue what’s going on here- if Louis wants him beyond a physical attraction or if this is the single time he’ll get to experience this. Either way, he’s going to make it count while he has the opportunity. 

Louis looks dazed and flushed, lips parted and body trembling in Harry’s arms. He still leans into his touch like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. Like he’s thriving off of it- thriving off of Harry and the thought of being fucked and bitten by him. 

He hoists Louis up with ease before standing up himself. Louis wraps his legs around his waist securely as Harry leans in to suck a bruise on his throat. His fangs have lowered by now but he keeps them away from skin, not wanting to start just yet. 

It would be easy for him to just fuck Louis on the couch, just keep him on his lap and shove both of their pants down, sitting Louis on his cock and lifting him up and down until he’s sobbing for it. But he wants to be thorough, wants to do it on a bed so he can have Louis all spread out and flushed and wanting. He wants to make it something to remember. 

The door thumps violently against the wall when Harry elbows it open, stumbling to the bed and laying Louis back carefully. His hair is messy and tousled already, blue eyes wide and hazy with desire. 

Harry shoves his jeans down, getting a knee on the bed before settling between Louis’ legs. He can feel that his fangs have lowered again, but ignores it for now, fingers curling into the hem of Louis’ shorts. 

“Can I?” he asks, voice deep with arousal. 

Louis nods eagerly, raising his hips to help as Harry tugs both his shorts and his underwear down, leaking cock springing out and slapping up to his stomach. 

He presses a greeting kiss to it, taking the time to admire. “Pretty from head to toe,” he murmurs, hands sliding under him to grope at the bum he’s ogled far too many times over the past few years. “S’not fair.” 

Before Louis can respond, he ducks down and sucks a bruise into his inner thigh, pinning his hips down with two steady hands when they jump. 

He doesn’t want to bite just yet, though he does scrape his teeth down a line on Louis’ thigh. “The saphenous vein in your leg,” he breathes, feeling Louis jolt, “is another delicious place to bite.” _Maybe later,_ he thinks, hopes. 

Kissing back up to Louis’ stomach, he spreads his legs further apart, bringing them up to expose his fluttering hole. “Pretty, pretty, pretty,” Harry says mindlessly, leaning in to kiss it hello. He’s a gentleman after all. 

Louis shudders at the feeling, whining a bit when Harry exhales, breath teasing his entrance. “Harry,” he breathes, _“please._ ” 

He’s squirming, legs squeezing around his ribs and pulling him closer. Harry stills him by laying his hand flat against his stomach, feeling the rise and fall of his chest under his fingers. “Good boy,” he praises. 

“Fuck,” Louis whispers, but he stays still except for a quick jump and choked off gasp when Harry licks a stripe up his perineum. 

Harry wasn’t planning on doing this but he just can’t help himself, licking slowly and almost lazily as he chases the taste of skin and sweat. 

Louis whimpers, body arching up when Harry sucks gently at his rim. 

He flattens his tongue against his hole, not dipping in where he knows Louis wants it. Licking slowly, he listens to Louis fall apart above him. 

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” he’s pleading, voice shot through and raspy as tremors wrack his body. “Do something -”

“I am,” Harry replies, pulling away and smirking when Louis whines in protest. 

Deciding to take a short break, he trails his lips over Louis’ arse cheeks. His teeth and fangs graze against the tan, smooth skin, leaving light red imprints in their wake. Harry inhales the thick scent of blood, so intense and heady now that he’s so close to his skin. 

He returns to his hole, finally dipping his tongue in and eliciting a moan, thighs quivering on either side of his face. Harry hums, licking in when renewed fervor and holding Louis’ legs apart for easier access. 

Jaw straining, he fucks his tongue in and out, basking in the way Louis’ hole clenches around him. He could do this all day, he thinks, but he has a better meal in his cards. 

He pulls back slowly, pressing a final kiss to his rim before dragging his lips up Louis’ perineum and licking a teasing stipe up his length before nipping at his belly button. 

Louis jumps, gasping out as Harry worships his stomach almost reverently. He jumps even more violently when Harry gets to his nipple, sucking one into his mouth and choosing not to be gentle when it comes to involving teeth. 

He bites down teasingly, soothing the sting with his tongue before switching to the other one. 

“Harry, I need it,” Louis pleads. 

Harry glances up at him, breath hitching when he sees the wetness on his cheeks and the way his lashes are clumped together with tears. It makes the arousal coiling through him burn even harder. He groans, moving up to lay over his body and wrap his hands loosely around Louis’ throat. 

He can feel every swallow and breath like this, pulse racing erratically against the pad of his thumb. He gets distracted by it for a moment, the steady beat of Louis’ pounding heart as it pumps fresh, delicious blood through his small body. 

Louis rocking up into him and grinding into his length is the only thing that snaps out of it, groaning again at the feeling of Louis’ bare cock sliding against his clothed one. 

“Gonna get lube,” he whispers, kissing Louis’ cheek before getting off the bed hurriedly to rummage in the nightstand. He finds a bottle and also grabs a condom before getting back on the bed and back where he belongs over Louis. 

His cock throbs, straining up against his briefs wantingly. He palms at it to relieve the tension and create some extra friction but deigns to ignore the ache for now. 

After all, there are more important engagements in progress, most namely being the beautiful boy in front of him who's practically begging to be devoured. 

Harry leans in and scrapes his teeth against the tender flesh of Louis' neck, his hands running up and down his warm, bare sides soothingly. He can feel the blood coursing through Louis’ throat, ready to be tasted and taken. Just the anticipation and knowledge that he _will_ be tasting and taking very soon is enough to make him feel desperate. 

Louis is trembling under him, letting out soft whimpers and blinking up at Harry with wide eyes. He seems equally eager and apprehensive when his eyes flicker to Harry’s fangs, sharp and fully lowered. He looks so innocent and sweet, Harry thinks. He remembers Brandon’s entitled energy and thinks of how it’d be all too easy for him to take advantage of Louis’ inherent need to please and lack of knowledge about bites. It makes him angry, but he tamps it down. 

He doesn’t want to rush this but the urge to feed is growing inside him with every passing second, and he isn’t sure how much longer he’ll be able to hold out. 

But he restrains himself for now, uncapping the bottle and pouring some lube on his fingers before rubbing his hands to warm it. 

Louis wraps his arms around his neck, keeping him close as Harry snakes a hand down to his hole, circling his index finger in his rim before pushing in slowly. 

He licks a stripe up the side of Louis’ neck before adding on to his previous collection of marks and sucking a bruise onto his throat, all while easing his finger in slowly. He pumps it in and out, keeping a measured, thorough pace even as Louis starts begging for me. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, kissing up the side of his jaw. 

“I know,” Louis rasps, head tipping back in pleasure. 

Harry is vibrating with the strength of his desire, his cock hard and angry red and his throat dry with thirst. He inches in a second finger and scissors them, stretching Louis open. 

Louis moans, fucking down onto his fingers sluggishly as Harry speeds up. His mouth is wide open and Harry stuffs two fingers in, groaning when he immediately suckles around them, eyes squeezing shut. 

“So good,” Harry murmurs nonsensically, entranced by the hollow of his cheeks and the flush blooming across his face and down to his chest. “Good boy.” 

Harry changes his angle and jams his fingers up, satisfied when Louis goes rigid and whines around his fingers. He maintains the angle and hits his prostate again and again.

It takes him a second to realize Louis is making strangled little noises, trying to speak. He takes his fingers out gently, wet with saliva. “W..when,” Louis stutters, drool sliding down his chin, “are you going to…” He trails off but Harry gets the picture. 

“In a minute,” he soothes, pressing the words into his neck. “Gonna do it twice. First here,” he presses over his jugular on the right side. “And then here.” He slides his hand over and presses on the other side of his neck, feeling Louis’ throat contract. 

“Okay,” Louis breathes, jerking when Harry adds a third finger abruptly. 

“I’ll tell you when,” Harry promises. 

“I trust you,” Louis says with a sigh, no trace of hesitation or uncertainty in his tone. 

It makes Harry’s heart swell. He fucks in a few more times before pulling his fingers out and wiping them on the sheets. 

Then he plants his hands on either side of Louis’ face, meeting his eyes. He takes his time, letting his eyes wander over the slope of Louis’ nose, the arch of his eyebrows, the languid flutter of his lashes, the curve of his cheekbones, and the flushed apples of his cheeks. “Going to do it now,” he murmurs, thumbing over the latter quickly before leaning in. 

He waits for Louis’ muted, _“Okay,”_ before parting his lips and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the spot he’s going to puncture. 

Then he bites, tips of his fangs sinking into warm flesh easy smooth as syrup. Louis screams _,_ but more from shock than pain. He presses into it instead of pulling away. 

The first taste of blood - warm and rich and just as _perfect_ as the last time - sends a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He lets out of a groan, sucking harder. 

Louis keens, body falling lax and pliant as Harry drinks from him. He's panting, head craning to the side to make more room for Harry. When Harry takes a slight pause to let Louis recover slightly, he studies Louis' wide, open eyes. Blue and watery and staring aimlessly at the ceiling, almost unseeingly. He's clutching Harry's biceps almost excruciatingly, nails biting into his bare skin and cutting crescent moon shapes into his arm. 

He looks dizzy and lost and most importantly, _wrecked._ Flushed all the way down his chest, body heaving, and sweat-slick tanned skin all out on display for Harry to feast on. 

Harry hums contentedly, thumbing over Louis' cheekbone and diving back in. He licks up the excess blood dribbling from the raw wound, before returning to his drinking. Louis whimpers, soft and strangled in his throat. The sound seeps into his skin with the most carnal satisfaction. 

There is little more that’s more important to Harry than _this._

“Taste so good, baby,” Harry murmurs, lips brushing over sweat-slick skin. “How was that?”

He gets a whimper in response, quivering fingers curling into his hair. “G..good,” Louis breathes. “Really good.” 

“Good,” Harry says, reaching an arm out to find the abandoned condom. He knows he could detach himself to find it easily but he’d rather struggle than move away from Louis’ needy embrace. 

Fortunately, he finds it eventually, moving back only a little bit and grimacing because it’s going to be difficult to get it on at this angle. 

“Me, me, I’ll do it,” Louis interrupts, taking it from his hand. 

Harry groans when Louis’ fingers brush against his cock, nimbly sliding the rubber on and then slicking him up. 

He lines up quickly, licking up another trickle of blood from Louis’ neck before moving his hands down to hold his legs up and away as he eases in. 

Louis digs his fingers into Harry’s shoulders as he bottoms out, lips parting on another gasp.

Harry gently pries them off and pins his wrists to the mattress above him with a single hand, watching as his eyes go hazy and dark. _Interesting_. 

He waits a few moments until Louis starts squirming again, clenching down on his cock until Harry squeezes his wrists in warning. 

“Move,” he whispers. “Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Harry whispers, sliding out slowly before ramming in forcefully. He thrusts in again just as firmly, drawing out a high-pitched cry. 

Louis arches up into Harry as he carves out a steady pace, nothing but the obscene sound of skin slapping skin and their heavy pants fading to a constant buzz in the background. 

Harry feels drunk - drunk on Louis and the blood he drank from him, pure adrenaline coursing through him as he presses in, hitching his right leg up for a better angle as he searches for Louis’ prostate again. 

“Feel so good around me, pet,” he grunts, biting down on Louis’ shoulder. The intent wasn’t to draw blood but he gets a few pinpricks, automatically licking up the coppery drip and soothing the sting. 

The headboard creaks loudly, slamming into the wall in tune with Harry’s thrusts. Harry sends a mental apology to their neighbors as he falls into a trance, hips snapping forward automatically. 

With the taste of Louis’ blood still lingering in his mouth and his body taking him so well, Harry isn’t surprised that it doesn’t take long for him to reach the cusp. 

“Take two?” he murmurs, keeping his hold around his wrists steady as he kisses the spot on the left side of his neck that mirrors his first bite mark. 

“Please, please, please,” Louis begs, tilting his head back to expose his throat even more. 

Harry pushes in as deep as he can go before sinking his teeth into his jugular. Thick, hot crimson bleeds into his mouth and he swallows it all down, feeling Louis scream again, clenching down on his cock. 

It only takes a few sloppy thrusts and then he’s coming too, still sucking lightly at Louis’ neck and groaning. He decides that yes, Louis’ blood is his favorite taste in the world and he’d gladly drink it for the rest of his life given the chance. 

He’s so distracted with his contentment that he doesn’t register Louis slipping out of his slackened grip and cradling his face, pulling him up and away from his neck. He opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong, terrified that he did something wrong and Louis is hurting, only to be interrupted as Louis surges up and kisses him. 

His heart soars with shock and disbelief and then joy, immediately pressing back into Louis’ mouth and cupping his chin. He slots their lips together more effectively, licking into his mouth. 

Louis moans and that’s when Harry realizes Louis is _tasting his own blood_. 

He groans, carefully sliding out and using his free hand to tie off the condom and throw it into the conveniently located bin next to his nightstand. 

Never once does he pull away, sliding his arms around Louis’ waist and rolling them over until Louis is laying on his chest and not on his sore bum. He should probably get a rag to clean them off but he’s pretty sure nothing could get him to move from this very spot. So he just kisses Louis harder, thumbing over Louis’ cheekbone gently while his other trails up and down his spine soothingly. His body thrums with the satisfaction of a good orgasm and happiness that Louis’ here with him, _kissing_ him and making soft little contented sounds. 

Eventually he ghosts his lips down to where Louis is still bleeding, mouthing wetly at the skin and licking up the last trickles of blood. He keeps his motions fleeting and featherlight, not wanting to overwhelm Louis. 

Louis giggles when he brushes over a sensitive spot, squirming away. Harry grins, hopelessly endeared and enamoured. 

It fades just as quickly, awareness settling in his body. He clears his throat. “Lou,” he starts slowly, prickles of fear spreading across him. 

“Yeah?” he whispers, voice raw and wrecked like the rest of him. His brows furrow in confusion when he glances up and sees Harry’s pained expression. “What is it?” 

“I… Louis, I can’t have this be a one time thing,” Harry blurts, grimacing. “I don’t want this to be a thing where you were curious of what it felt like to be fucked and bitten by a vampire and now that you’ve experienced it, you’re over it. I’m- I want you to call you _mine._ ”

“Harry,” Louis interrupts, incredulous. “Harry, that’s not what this is.” 

“It’s not?” Harry says, biting his lip. “Because you were asking all those questions about if biting was better during sex and, I mean, we didn’t even get to talk about it - not that I’m complaining but, I just - I can’t do it like that, I need -”

“Harry,” Louis says again, sounding amused. He leans down and pecks Harry firmly on the lips, smiling softly at his dazed expression. “I want this to be the exact opposite of a one-time thing,” he murmurs, voice soft but serious. “In fact, I want you to take me out to dinner and bring me flowers and kiss me goodnight and drink from me and no one else. I want you to call me yours.” 

“Oh,” Harry says helplessly, his earlier happiness blooming again but tenfold. “Good.” He clears his throat again, a grin fighting at his lips. “I will do that. All of that.” 

“Good,” Louis echoes, before wrinkling his nose. “I also want you to get a rag, because I don’t want to scrape cum off my stomach tomorrow morning.” 

_Tomorrow morning_. Louis is staying over. With him. He grins as he gently maneuvers Louis into laying down again, getting up and heading for the bathroom across the hall, unbothered by his nudity. 

Zayn being gone was pure luck - for him at least. Harry would easily walk around bare naked in front of him too, but he’s sure Zayn's glad he’s missed it this time. 

After wiping Louis down and then making him drink two glasses of water and a granola bar, Harry pulls him back into his chest and seals their lips together again, addicted to the feeling, addicted to _him._ He makes a private oath to himself that he’ll do his absolute best to make sure his lips are on some part of Louis as much as possible from now on.

He doesn’t think Louis’ll mind all that much anyway. 

-

Harry wakes up to soft rays of sunlight washing over his room. A familiar intoxicating blood scent enters his nose and he grins, eyes still closed as he leans forward and his lips meet soft skin. 

He kisses the nape of Louis’ neck tenderly, inhaling the smell of sex in his hair before his eyes finally flutter open. His grin only grows at the sight of the back of Louis’ head, feeling sort of stupid with how happy his brown, tousled hair makes him feel. 

Very carefully, he extracts his arms from around his middle, untangling their linked hands and pressing a kiss to Louis’ shoulder through the fabric, still grinning. 

He carefully gets up and out of bed, toes curling against the cool floor as he stretches out his pleasantly sore muscles. He rubs his eyes and treads out of the room, being as quiet as he can (admittedly not very quiet- Niall once said he doesn’t walk, he _lumbers_ and he’s not exactly wrong). 

The kitchen somehow seems a lot more beautiful in the morning, or maybe it’s just Harry’s bright mood. He finds a glass to fill with water, humming to himself quietly. 

“Hey, H,” says a voice and he nearly jumps, cursing as he spills some water on himself. 

He spins around, frowning when he sees it’s only Zayn. “When’d you get here? Weren’t you with-” He trails off as Zayn yawns, hood falling off his head and revealing his ears. His ears with bright red _ear plugs_ sticking out of them. 

“You -” Harry stops, rendered speechless with disbelief. 

Zayn looks confused, taking the ear plugs out of his ears and setting them on the table. “What did you say?”

Harry stares at them, shocking himself when he lets out a surprised laugh, loud and bold in the morning quiet. 

“You alright, mate?” Zayn checks, giving him a weird look. 

“I’m stellar,” Harry exclaims, still laughing. He shakes his head. “I had no idea you wore ear plugs.” 

“Oh,” Zayn says, surprised. He shrugs. “I’d wake up too easily without them. There’s too many noises in this flat.” 

Harry laughs again, almost hysterically this time. “I’m so glad you do that, Z. So glad.” 

Zayn looks even more confused at that but Harry ignores it, grabbing the glass of water and heading back to his room. 

He automatically softens when he sees Louis’ tousled head lift from the mattress, hands reaching out behind him and grasping empty air. 

“‘Arry?” Louis rasps, voice heavy with sleep. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” Harry murmurs, sitting down on the bed gingerly. The term of endearment mostly refers to how Louis shines as bright as the sun, but truthfully, Harry’s pretty sure the sun’s got nothing on him. Vampires may be more sensitive to the light but he’d gladly get burned if it meant he spent an eternity in Louis’ glow. 

Louis stares at him with bleary eyes, a tiny pillow crease on his cheek. “Good morning,” he mumbles, shy. 

Harry doesn’t waste any more time in pulling Louis forward and into his lap, sighing contentedly when Louis nuzzles into his neck and his soft hair tickles his jaw. The sheets smell like sweat and sex and blood, but they also smell like happiness. 

“Do you feel okay?” Harry checks, sliding a hand under Louis’ - technically, _Harry’s_ \- shirt to spread out on his back. His skin is warm against Harry’s fingers, riddled with goosebumps. 

“Yeah,” Louis answers drowsily. “You took care of me.” 

The answer makes his heart swell. Harry presses a kiss to the top of his head, inhaling the smell of sluggish blood streaming through Louis’ veins, morning-slow but still steady as ever. “Good,” he says belatedly. 

Louis tilts his head up so their noses bump together, breath fanning out on each other’s faces. “Kiss me, please,” he whispers. Harry obliges. “And, maybe… bite me again later?” 

It’s one request Harry could never say no to. 

-

**Author's Note:**

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